


Ease Into Reality

by roidadidou



Category: Super Science Friends (Cartoon)
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, i wouldnt call it angst but its something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:12:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19262968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roidadidou/pseuds/roidadidou
Summary: The clone of Albert Einstein needs some help adjusting to, well... Being alive.





	Ease Into Reality

The beeping of machines and monitors rang in his ears, but his eyes were frozen on the boy’s sleeping face, and the swimming hair that framed it. Somehow, the squeak of Roosevelt’s wheelchair was what brought him out of his trance.  


“Big day, big day!” The President announced after being greeted with formalities from the other men in the room.  


“Makes you feel like Doctor Frankenstein, doesn’t it?” He continued humorously as he cleaned his glasses with his tie. Churchill simply scoffed.  


“More like whoever gave Frankenstein the money.”  


Scientists rushed around them with folders in their hands. They all mumbled technical nonsense to each other that was lost on the politicians.  


This was the day that the boy in the glass vat would be born. Born? That was the wrong word for it. Either way, Churchill was invited to watch. For some reason, a feeling in his gut was filling him with dread. He couldn’t put his finger on why.  


The scientists held little value for performing it in a ceremonial fashion; they gave almost no warning before the pink liquid began draining downward. Churchill watched with a disgusted grimace as the boy sunk down onto his knees.  


The glass tube lifted, exposing him to cold air, and he let out a gross cough to pull the water from his throat. He flinched and withdrew when scientists swarmed him to cover him with a towel and measure everything they could. Lights were shone in his eyes, his pulse was counted, he was asked a series of questions, and none of it helped with his confusion. When they were satisfied, they backed off; mostly because Churchill found himself stepping forward.  


When the boy’s gaze met his, he froze. What would he say? The clone squinted, and swallowed, and coughed once more, before trying to speak clearly.  


“... Are you God?”  


How the hell was he supposed to answer that?  


It was at this point everyone noticed that he was still sopping wet, shivering, and pulling the towel around him with an uncoordinated grip, so the politicians were politely asked to leave to allow the scientists to continue working. Churchill had to be asked twice. 

_

In a plain, grey room, the boy sat at a table across from a scientist clad in white. Between them, a chess board. With a shaky, clumsy grip, the boy slowly lifted one piece, moved it, and dropped it. Then his hand moved too fast to hit the timer.  


He also had no idea that the mirror to his left was actually just a one-way window. Behind it, more men in white watched, chattering to each other about the clone’s progress. Once again, Churchill and Roosevelt were entitled to be present.  


This isn’t what Einstein had wanted. He didn’t want the clammy, greedy, blood-thirsty hands of science to reach into his grave and rip his brain from his body, and place it into an unwilling boy. His mouth felt dry.  


“This was a mistake.” He slurred. Roosevelt didn’t take it lightly.  


“Don’t say that to me. You’re the one who begged me to approve this project.”  


“Yes, but-”  


“You’re not allowed to back out of it now.”  


They had nothing else to say to each other. Eventually, after watching the game became monotonous, the Prime Minister tapped on one of the white coats’ shoulders.  


“May I speak to him? In person.”  


The scientist stared him down, then a brief back-and-forth happened between him and another, and then he turned back to Churchill and nodded.  


The swing of the large metal door startled the boy. His hair bounced when his head whipped around to look at the new visitor. He then turned back to see his previous chess opponent standing to leave. Churchill replaced him.  


The door closed. The room was silent. Churchill folded his hands on the table and studied the chess board, then, hesitantly, lifted one piece and moved it. Then he hit the timer.  


The clone’s hand shook once again as he struggled to focus it over a single piece. He froze when Churchill began talking.  


“Do you remember anything?”  


The boy lowered his hand. He mumbled something too quiet to hear.  


“What was that?”  


“No. Only what they told me.” He repeated.  


Churchill replied with a ‘hmm,’ and the game continued. The clone made his move.  


The older man took one of the boy’s pawns, and set it to the side of the board, before continuing the conversation.  


“Everyone misses you, you know.”  


Another mumble.  


"Me?” He eventually said.  


“That’s right.”  


Churchill was beginning to notice the pattern; was the boy simply rehearsing his sentences before saying them out loud?  


“Now I feel bad… Now I feel bad.”  


“Why’s that?”  


“Because… Because they miss me, but I don’t know who any of them are.”  


Their game of chess paused. The politician reached into his jacket and pulled out a photo.  


“I brought this for you, in case it might jog your memory.” He explained as he handed it to him. The boy studied it closely.  


Einstein and Marie Curie, standing side-by-side outdoors, clad in winter coats. The photo felt natural, as if neither of them knew it was being taken. They probably didn’t.  


“That’s you, on the left.” Churchill clarified. The clone’s eyes stared intently at it, silently, for almost too long.  


“I had a mustache, I had a mustache,” He eventually commented. Churchill laughed.  


“You can grow it back when you’re older, if you like.”  


The boy laid the photo down onto the table, and awkward fingers slid it toward the man.  


“Thank you... Thank you.” He finally said. 

_

The team had been told that the clone of Albert Einstein would live up to the original. After all, science progressed faster now than it ever had before, and money could buy anything if you had enough. But they still kept their expectations low for what they would see; and, maybe, it was a good thing that they did.  


The boy used a cane to walk, simply because his legs hadn’t learned to carry him yet, and his arms hadn’t learned how to carry his duffel bag, either. His posture was odd. His hair was parted in the middle. He was forced to wear a woolen brown sweater. It was all in an attempt to make him look as close to his predecessor as possible. Instead, he just looked goofy. The Super Science Friends attempted to censor their reactions. He tugged at his collar.  


“I know what you’re all thinking-” Churchill started.  


“But let’s just give him some time to get used to living here. First impressions aren’t everything.”  


The clone pulled on the man’s sleeve.  


“Is that - Is that the woman from the photo?” He asked quietly. Churchill nodded.  


“Marie, you were close with Einstein-”  


“We all were.” She snapped. The politician chuckled awkwardly and straightened his hat.  


“Yes, yes, well- maybe you should show him his room.”  


Curie sighed, and gestured for the clone to follow her. He stumbled forward with pigeon-toed steps. The rest of the team disbanded and each went back to what they were doing before. The arrival of Einstein’s clone didn’t feel notable to them; they didn’t want it to be.  


She was cold, but not heartless, and was slow enough for him to keep up. Then they were forced to approach the obstacle that was the staircase. Both of them halted to a stop.  


“Here- I’ll help you,” She told him, her hands bracing his back and his arm. They crawled up the stairs at a snail’s pace, and the teenager couldn’t help but think he was bothering her by needing the assistance.  


When they got to the top, the boy regained his footing, depending on the cane like it meant his life.  


“I’m sorry - I’m sorry for that,” He tried to apologize.  


“Don’t worry about it.” She replied bluntly. Then she opened the door nearest the staircase, revealing his room. The walls were freshly wallpapered, the bed made, and the curtains drawn. The clone instantly wobbled over to the bed and sat down. Climbing up the stairs had been an effort.  


The chemist stood in the doorway awkwardly.  


“I have to ask you -... What’s it like to… Just have your entire brain ‘switched on?’”  


“What - What do you mean?”  


“Well, newborns don’t have a sense of anything. They sort of… Ease into reality. Do you know what I’m saying?”  


“I guess… I guess so.”  


“It’s a ridiculous question, I’m sorry.”  


“No, no, it’s fine.” His hands went up to his head and ruffled his hair until it was the fluffy mop he was happier with. He watched himself do it in the mirror sitting above the dresser and across from his bed.  


“But… I don’t think… I don’t think it came all at once. I think I was… Dreaming. Before they woke me up.”  


“Dreaming? About what?”  


He looked down at the ground in intense, pensive thought. He racked his brain, trying to remember just what was in his dreams. Then it hit him, and he looked up, and his mouth opened to say it, but closed again.  


“No, you’ll think it’s dumb.”  


“Dreams don’t make any sense anyways. You can tell me.”  


His brow furrowed and he scratched his chin.  


“I saw… I saw... A man with six arms.”


End file.
